Into the Fire
by Aldira
Summary: A trip to the shops with Ginny or an afternoon with Malfoy? Which was worse, Harry wondered. Pre-slash.


Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series.

Warnings: pre-slash (hints of boyxboy)

Note: Written for the Disney Character Competition: Abu; Great Maze Competition: Jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire; Hunger Games Trilogy Competition: Foxface; As Many As You Want Competition: Draco/Harry, "Where are you going?", lace dress, gold

**Into the Fire**

"Harry," Ginny blinked her large brown eyes sweetly, "are you ready to go shopping?"

That word. That one word that had about every man drop to their knees was now presented before him. Harry bit his bottom lip, green eyes frantically looking for the closest exit while the rest of his body tensed. He absently wondered if it would be too obvious to start running out the Great Hall now.

"Well, you see…," before Harry could make a fool of himself fumbling with his words to escape the devil's task, an arm draped itself around his shoulders.

"Actually, Weasley, Potter has a prearranged engagement with me right about now," a silky voice answered for him. Harry just barely resisted gaping at the nonchalant ease Draco Malfoy carried himself with as he sidled up close to him. The warmth of his arm seemed to burn into his robes, and Harry shifted uncomfortably under the weight. The hand tightened for a second before loosening, still draped over him.

A frown tugged at the corner of Ginny's lips, clearly dissatisfied with the predicament. She turned her eyes to Harry who quickly masked his shock with a sheepish look, praying that the redhead would find it believable. Pursing her lips, Ginny gave a tight nod before turning around and trudging out the door.

Harry sighed in relief, only feeling slightly guilty at leaving Ginny. Really, he could deal with a little guilt; it was better than hours of boredom, momentarily forgetting about the body still standing close to him. Too close, in fact. Harry suddenly flung himself away from Malfoy, staring at him warily as he brushed off his robes unconsciously. The blond raised an eyebrow at his behavior but said nothing. Although their attitudes had been nothing but polite toward one another after the war, Harry couldn't think of any reason why Draco would just help him without something up his sleeve. Sure, the Slytherin was no longer the cause of his suffering but it didn't mean that he would stop it if it was caused by someone else. That's just the way things work between them. There was minimal contact and even less interaction. You couldn't blame Harry for being suspicious.

"Well, thanks, Malfoy," Harry raised his hand awkwardly, walking backwards slowly, preparing to make his exit when the blond shook his head at him.

"Where are you going?" Draco raised a fine eyebrow incredulously."You didn't think I did that out of the kindness of my heart, did you?"

Harry's jaw did drop this time. When the look Draco gave him didn't change, Harry let out a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "You can't be serious?"

"With you, Potter? Always." Harry's brow creased, but before he could open his mouth to question the statement, a blur of green robes latched onto his arm, pulling him closer. "But for now, you owe me a favor," Draco smirked down at him, almost purring out the last word.

Harry gulped, staring into the predatory gray eyes in fear, seriously contemplating calling Ginny back.

* * *

><p>Harry grumbled, eyeing the crowd distastefully behind his carefully crafted, fine black mask. It rested comfortably around his eyes, covering the upper portion of his face, smoothly stopping at the curve of his cheekbones and midway of his nose. Long, elegant feathers adorned the upper left of the mask, a bright green contrasting sharply with his raven hair. Thin gold and black ribbons mixing with small white beads trailed down the two sides of the mask, flowing gracefully with his every movement. Right now they dangled stiffly as if sensing their wearer's ire. Harry stared at one corner of the room stubbornly, clenching and unclenching his grip on the handheld fan that when opened, displayed simple yet beautiful gold and white lines on black lace, matching his attire tastefully, ignoring the person standing next to him. Harry wanted the earth to swallow him up right now, swearing the immense embarrassment was worse than even death at this point.<p>

A hand slapped the middle of his back, although silent, it didn't lessen the pain any less, leaving Harry jerking away with a hiss. Some nearby guests looked on at the strange behavior but quickly returned back to their conversations.

"And that was for what exactly?" Harry scowled in irritation, bristling like a cat.

"Ladies do not slouch, in case you didn't notice, Potter," Draco said snidely, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Harry huffed before striding away, heels clicking along the marble floor. Draco inwardly applauded him for not stumbling and falling on his face and not making it too obvious the dress was making him uncomfortable.

"Enjoying the ball?" A voiced asked from beside him. Draco turned catching the dark eyes of Blaise Zabini.

Draco tipped his head cooly, swirling a glass of champagne in his hand. "Yes, you sure know how to host these parties, Blaise."

His companion crossed his arms, leaning against the far wall with him, giving a curious look in Harry's direction. "Your date seems to be having a less ideal time, I see."

Currently, the brunet was by the refreshments table, ferociously batting away any sleazy, drunken offers for a dance, mumbling to himself. She was pretty, if Blaise was honest, a fresh, clean face not wearing cosmetics in the crowd, not that she needed it. Soft pink lips, a small nose, green eyes on a pale face was all that could be seen, but it was enough to showcase her beauty. She was donned in an expensive lacy black dress that was see-through at the sleeves and neck, that tapered off at her calves, showing off her smooth legs, a present from Draco no doubt. Her tiny ankles were encased delicately in low, multi-strap heels. Her hair was much too short for Blaise's liking, although he mused that Draco always was fond of the rebellious type; he did love a chase, and a chase it was going to be if the glares she sent in the blond's direction was any indication.


End file.
